


The Madam of Knockturn Alley

by JadeFalcon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Play, Anus, Awkward Blow Jobs, Awkward Sexual Situations, Blow Jobs, Body Shots, Body Worship, Bondage, Breastfeeding, Breasts, Brothels, Cock Slut, Consensual Underage Sex, Cumshot, Dirty Dancing, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Ejaculate, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Facials, First Time Blow Jobs, Forced Ejaculation, Freckles, Gen, Ginger - Freeform, Grooming, Groping, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Light Bondage, Lust, M/M, Madam, Massage, Masturbate, Masturbation, Minor, Money, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Man, Older Woman/Younger Man, Orgasm, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Payment, Pedophilia, Penises, Pimp, Premature Ejaculation, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Public Sex, Rope Bondage, Self-Bondage, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Slavery, Sexual Tension, Slut Shaming, Strip Tease, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stripping, Tags May Change, Uncircumcised Penis, Underage - Freeform, Underage Character(s), Underage Kissing, Underage Masturbation, Underage Prostitution, Underage Sex, Urethral Play, Vibrators, cum, redhead, tits, whore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:29:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeFalcon/pseuds/JadeFalcon
Summary: A mysterious woman approaches young Ronald Weasley for a job while he is by himself in Diagon Alley.  But it might not be quite what he was expecting.WARNING: story contains underage characters!





	The Madam of Knockturn Alley

**Author's Note:**

> That's right....our favorite redhead is back! This time, he may have gotten himself in to something he shouldn't have.
> 
> ....or has he?
> 
> This story has been bouncing around inside my head for a while, so I want to get it down before I lose interest in it.
> 
> There is no specific date or time-frame in this, but Ron is 12 years old in this story. If that bothers you, then please click the "Back" button and go read something else.
> 
> It should also be noted that the Madam's name is just some random name that I came up with on the fly. You can pronounce it however you wish, and I'm still experimenting with the spelling on her last name. But for now, you can pronounce it as "Goss-Hoke" (spoken as one word, without the dash of course). The "H" in her name is going to be silent, I think.
> 
> But again, I'm still experimenting with the spelling.
> 
> There's also not going to be a drawn-out plot. I'm going to try and make this as cut-and-dry as possible.
> 
> Also, please note that the numeral for Galleon gold is "ʛ". Thus a price of 1,500ʛ equals "1,500 Galleons".

Vivian Ghosshoke was a woman of refined tastes.

She enjoyed the finer things in life.  Fine wines and cocktails.  Fine dining.  Luxurious furniture and fine jewelry.  Fine gowns and dresses.  Luxurious fur shawls like the one she was currently wearing.

The 40-year-old single woman could afford it.  She was quite beautiful, so she had to look her best at all times.  The fact that she had no family of her own to provide for meant that she could earn a healthy living with the few select customers which she allowed to frequent her establishment.

Vivian strolled through the dark passageways that defined Knockturn Alley.  Quiet, eerie shops; some with windows that were boarded over, flickering street lamps, the occasional roar of laughter from a distant drunk, silent sentries standing in the darkened doorways of questionable establishments glaring at passer-byes with beady, cruel eyes.  And despite there not being a cloud in the sky, the sun never touched the alley.

It was just her kind of place.  Especially with the type of business she engaged in....

The tall, elegant woman's thoughts drifted to her business as she continued at a leisurely pace toward the entrance that would lead her to Diagon Alley.  It was a business that had been passed down to her by her mother, and Vivian had worked her entire life to build it up into the most profitable business in Knockturn Alley.

But she was in the process of losing money from the fact that her very select clientele were no longer frequenting her establishment.

And it wasn't as if she could just advertise her business anywhere.  It was highly illegal.  Which made gathering more and new customers difficult.

Not to mention finding.... _employees_.

 _No_ , she corrected herself.  _Private Contractors_.

Vivian smiled.  And what Contractors they were too.  But the others had left over time, and she currently had only one who was working for her.  Which was fine, as her select group of customers had faded away out of boredom and a lack of interest in the remaining Contractor.  The ones whom remained enjoyed what she had to offer.

But it wasn't enough.

Thus far, she was fine financially, but her accounts were becoming a bit of a worry.  She could not sustain her lifestyle over the long-term without new blood.

It was time to find new Contractors.

She brushed aside her long black hair and reached inside of her cleavage for her wand.  Its core contained the heartstring of a very rare saber-toothed Fire Leopard; a magnificent beast found only in the hottest part of the Kilauea volcano in Hawaii.  The core also contained the sperm of a male Siren; considered extremely rare as only 3 had ever been encountered in all of recorded history.

As Vivian drew the twelve-inch Bocate-wood wand, it transfigured into a long black cigarette holder with a pale cigarette on the end of it; done with just a muttered incantation.  With a touch of her finger, the end of the fag glowed red.  She took a steady drag and enjoyed the nicotine rush.  Pinching it eloquently between her black-leather-gloved fingers, she continued on her way.

Not but two minutes later, she emerged into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley.  Glancing upwards, she figured it was about noon by the position of the sun.  Her blood-red Maxi dress seemed to glow, and the shine from her polished black heels made the pale skin of her delicate calves stand out.  Her eloquent thigh was revealed through the slit with each gust of wind.

The Madam of Knockturn Alley adjusted her elbow-length gloves and, with a snap of her fingers, the black Dire Wolf fur shawl disappeared from her bare shoulders, and a wide floppy-brimmed Derby hat settled gently upon her head.  She adjusted it to the right angle and drew her makeup mirror from her dragon-leather hand purse.  Extinguishing her cigarette, she transformed her wand back and set about adjusting her dress.

She split the middle, exposing her ample cleavage, and raised her bosom upwards while tightening that portion of her dress.  This gave a very seductive hump at the top of the strapless dress as her breasts snuggled together.  She wasn't wearing a bra, so she carefully adjusted the fabric of the upper-portion of her dress to be as transparent as possible, leaving little to the imagination.  She left the lower-portion of her dress solid to keep the curve of her hips and buttocks well defined.

Studying herself carefully, she nodded in approval and returned her mirror to her hand purse, and set off at a leisurely pace around the village.

For close to an hour, she searched through the crowds that were traveling through the Alley; whole families, groups of children, young and elderly couples, and single folks like herself who were out to enjoy the early summer's day in the village.

She ignored the glances in her direction; outraged glares from envious women, open stares of lust from young and old men alike, the occasional smirk from other women like herself...even the snickering of passing children.  She already knew what their stares told her: that her outfit was working.

Occasionally, she stopped at a shop to browse the windows and sweep the isles with her eyes; always searching for her goal.

Until....

_My my....what a sweetheart._

Her ever-searching gaze fell upon a lone redheaded boy with a face full of freckles and bright, beautiful blue eyes.  She observed him for a short while as he strolled through the Alley, seemingly lost in thought.

She followed and, when he stopped at a window to gaze mournfully at a broom display, she moved in for the kill.

 

******

 

_I hate being poor._

Twelve-year-old Ronald Weasley stared gloomily at the window display of Quality Quidditch Supplies.  A new Nimbus 2001 mocked him from its perch on the other side of the thick glass, as did the price tag of 1,500ʛ.

He knew it was hopeless.  He dared not ask mum and dad for so much as a Knut; they didn't have the gold for such an expensive purchase.  Arthur's job at the Ministry didn't pay nearly enough for such lavish purchases.

 _And besides_ , he thought, _if I could, I'd definitely put the money into our family Vault at Gringotts_.

A sudden shadow fell over his left shoulder.  Turning, he looked up at the sudden presence, and his mouth fell open.

She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his young life.  Tall, graceful, with long beautiful black hair that was as luscious as the breasts that were squeezed together at the top of her dress.  She had perfect lips, porcelain skin with a touch of rose, and piercing grey eyes with flecks of gold around each iris.

Her blood-red dress was as provocative as the woman herself.  And Ron felt his cheeks burning as his gaze fell upon her chest.

"The Nimbus 2001.  What a marvelous thing."

The woman's voice was as beautiful as she was: soft, yet clear and confident.

She looked down at the gaping boy.  "Do you fly?"

Ron snapped his mouth shut; his cheeks still burning.  "Err...ah...no...not really..."

Then he caught his breath.  "But I've flown before!  My brothers have brooms!"

"Hmm!  Do they?  And how many brothers do you have, love?"

Ron was slightly startled by her words.  "Five....umm, ma'am."  He paused for a moment.  "But I have a little sister too.  Name's Ginny."

The woman smiled kindly, revealing dazzling white teeth.  "Ginny?  That's a lovely name.  And what is your name?"

"My name's Ron....Ron Weasley," he piped up.

Vivian stroked a quick thumb across his lower cheek affectionately.  _Of course he's a Weasley_ , she thought.  "Well, I think you are very handsome, Mister Weasley."

Ron was taken aback by her directness, but wasn't quite sure what to say.

The tall woman studied him briefly.  "I'm guessing you're about twelve years old, am I correct?"

Ron fidgeted in place.  "Err...yes ma'am."

She smiled again and held out her gloved hand.  "You may call me Vivian, dear."

The redheaded boy relaxed and shook her hand.  "Nice to meet you, Vivian."

Vivian looked up at the display in the window and the sign on the building.  "Are you a fan of Quidditch?"

Ron's eyes brightened.  "Yeah!  I love Quidditch!  I'm a Chudley Cannons fan!"

"What a surprise!  I love Quidditch as well.  I met Thomas Pruden once about ten years ago."

Ron could not believe his ears.  "Pruden was one of the best Beaters the Cannons ever had!"

"Indeed," she said with a smile.  "It's a shame they keep finishing so poorly."

Ron thought for a moment.  "So you're a Quidditch fan too?"

"Aye."

He looked surprised.  "Irish?" he asked curiously after a moment's hesitation.

"Yes.  My mother was a proud daughter of Ireland.  She raised me to love the Kenmere Kestrels."  Vivian beamed in pride.

"They're a good team," Ron said nonchalantly.

Vivian gave a harsh bark of laughter.  "Hah!  They've never won anything."

She looked behind her towards a nearby cafe.

"May I treat you to a cup of tea, Ron?  My treat."

He looked surprised, but wasn't about to turn down such a generous offer.  "Add a tart in there and you got a deal," he said with a grin.

His new companion smiled.  "Of course."

She placed an affectionate arm around his shoulders and guided him to the cafe.

 

******

 

Vivian knew the cafe owner very well.  James Armison owned "The Flaming Teacups" cafe and lounge.  He was an Australian man with a piercing gaze and a quick wit.  He had a shiny bald crown, a long brown goatee, and a thin smile.

What nobody besides her knew, however, was his long list of sexual fetishes and deviancy.  Not to mention his incredibly violent temper.  The man had performed many favors for her over the years, and she had paid him greatly for his services, both in gold and as one of her regular, select customers.  They had a good professional relationship, but they would never be friends.

And that suited Vivian just fine.  He was far too old for her preferences anyways.

"Ah, Viv!  G'day!"  He greeted her with a strong Aussie accent, despite the fact that he hadn't been to Australia in decades.

"Hello James," she said courteously.  "How is business?"

The bald man nodded.  "All good, all good."  His eyes landed on the boy standing beside her.

Ron squirmed under the man's gaze.  He made him feel incredibly uneasy.

"Ah," Vivian addressed them both.  She laid a gentle hand on Ron's soft hair.  "This is Mister Ron Weasley."

"How do you do," Ron said quietly.

James leaned both hands on the counter; a wide grin breaking out across his face.  "G'day there, Ron.  How are ya, mate?"

Ron said nothing.  Despite the fact that he was as tall as the man behind the counter, the boy felt very small in his presence.  And not in a good way.

Vivian stepped up to the counter, blocking the man's disgusting gaze towards Ron.  "Ah...James..." she narrowed her eyes at the man, but kept her voice even.  "How about a cuppa, yeah?"

James smile faltered, and he moved away towards his ingredients and brews.  "Of course.  The usual then?" he asked, referring to her regular cup of Earl Grey.

"Yes.  And....what would you like, love?" she turned her attention to the boy beside her.

Ron stuttered.  "Err...do you have any Butterbeer?"

 _I'll put some of my butter in your beer_...."Yep, ice cold in the bottle!"

"Cor!" exclaimed Ron.  His eyes fell on the many delicious pastries seated behind the glass display.  "And a Treacle Tart!"

 _Oh you're a cute little tart alright_...."Treacle Tart, comin' up!"

Vivian smiled down at the boy and they both moved off to an unseen booth at the back of the cafe.  He watched as she removed her hat and long gloves before sliding into the booth.

Once the pair were seated out of sight, James stooped down to open the display cabinet.  He was greeted by a blast of cool, magically-refrigerated air as he reached in and carefully withdrew a slice of Tart.

He brought the Tart to his mouth and slowly licked the entire underside of the crust with a soft moan.

Grinning in satisfaction, he carefully placed the Tart on a plate and retrieved the two other drinks.  About two minutes later, he placed all the items on a tray and made his way towards the booth; the tray hovering beside him as he walked.

"Here ya are!" he exclaimed, placing the Tart and Butterbeer before Ron, and the cup-and-saucer of tea in front of Vivian.  James drew his wand from his apron and tapped the top of the bottle, which popped open loudly.  A bubble of thick cream poured out of the top and slithered its way down the side of the bottle  James carefully whisked the foam away with a wave of his wand.

"Anything else I can getcha?" he asked silkily.

Vivian shook her head.  "That's all.  Thank you James."  She placed several gold coins on the table for the man, and he scooped them up.

"Enjoy..." he murmured, his eyes never leaving Ron's face.

Ron stared after the retreating man and shivered uncomfortably.

Vivian noticed this as she reached inside of her cleavage and drew her wand.  She set about casting several privacy charms.  "Don't mind him," she said gently.  "He's harmless."

Ron's attention was drawn back to the woman before him as she replaced her wand in the luscious clasp of her breasts.  He blushed deeply beneath his many freckles, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Vivian chuckled as she took a sip from her tea.  "No need to be embarrassed, love.  I'm not."  She leaned forward, resting her breasts on her arms as the crossed them casually on the table before her.

Being so close to her, it was impossible for Ron not to take in her....glorious assets.  She had a small, tantalizing beauty mark on her left breast, next to her cleavage, which drew his eye.  And her dress was _very_ translucent....

Ron felt his heart race as blood surged to his nether regions.  Erections had become very frequent for him as of late, and his penis was rock hard in just a matter of a few seconds.

His voice was thick in his throat.  "You...are very beautiful," he said in awe.  His beautiful blue eyes twinkled, drawing Vivian in.

The woman sensed his growing arousal, and moved in for the kill.  But it was something she would have done regardless if she was trying to further capture his attention.

Vivian smiled serenely, casually resting her cheek in her left hand as she leaned on the table.  Her eyes never left Ron's face.  "And you are incredibly handsome, Ron," she murmured.

"Hmm," he answered quietly; his eyes never leaving Vivian.

They sat like that for a moment; so close, quietly sharing each other's presence.  The food and drinks forgotten.

Before Vivian knew what she was doing, she silently reached up her right hand and gently cupped Ron's cheek.  The boy didn't even flinch, and seemed to welcome the attention.

She stroked the soft skin affectionately.  "Your freckles are very cute."  She traced her fingers across the spotted skin of his cheek and smoothed over them with her thumb.

Ron blinked.  "Thanks," he said with a slight pause.  "I've never liked them."

Her brow furrowed as she brought her index finger up to trace the spots speckling his nose.  "How come?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders.  "I dunno.  I guess because I have too many of them.  People stare at me like I'm a freak."

She frowned at this statement.  "Nonsense, Ron.  You're not a freak."

Ron gave a snort.  "At least I'm not like Charlie.  He's my older brother.  He has so many freckles that he looks tan."

Vivian laughed and she dropped her hand to the table once more.  With casual ease, she rested it on Ron's hand, which was likewise resting on the table.  She danced her fingers over his pale knuckles before entwining her fingers within his own.

Ron cocked his head and looked down curiously as both of their fingers clasped between one-another.  Vivian's thumb gently played with his own, and he likewise flicked his thumb against hers.

He found himself being slightly confused by all of this.  Vivian was very charming, and indeed very affectionate.  But she was also a stranger.  He just met her barely half-an-hour ago.

The Madam of Knockturn Alley studied her new companion's face.  She could tell that he was starting to second-guess this.  So she decided to turn his attention elsewhere.

"Tell me about you."

Ron was startled and blinked.  "Sorry?"

She smiled.  "Tell me about you.  Tell me about your family.  Do you have any friends?  What are your hobbies?  Where do you go to school?"  She paused.  "Tell me about you."

So, for the next hour, they both busied themselves in conversation.  Ron spoke excitedly about Quidditch and his school adventures.  She was surprised to find out that he was friends with The Boy Who Lived; Harry Potter.

 _Now there's someone I'd love to have working for me!_ she thought.

But she brushed her thoughts away and listened carefully to what Ron was saying.  He went on to talk about his family and his school studies.  The conversation they had was great, and Vivian hadn't felt at this much ease in a long time.  He asked about her on occasion, and she replied with rehearsed answers; giving away nothing serious about herself.  Yet.

When there was a lull in the conversation, Vivian glanced out a nearby window that was facing the Quidditch shop across the street.

"You really want that broom?" she asked Ron.

He was busy stuffing the last of the Treacle Tart into his mouth (he thought the crust was quite soggy though...).  Swallowing carefully, he answered.  "Oh yeah!  More than anything."

Vivian nodded.  "And your father....Arthur....you don't think he can afford it?"

Ron looked down quietly.

"Oh love....Ron, I wasn't teasing, I'm sorry.  I was just curious, that's all."  She rested her hand on his once again.

Ron nodded.  "He works hard," he said softly.  "And he never complains."

"I'm sure he's a model employee," Vivian replied gently.  "Have you considered a part-time job so that you can buy the broom?"

Ron looked up.  "A job?"

"Umm hmm," she nodded.  "If you'd like, you can work for me."

The redheaded boy's eyebrows shot up.  He had never been offered a job before.

"I...." he wasn't quite sure what to say.  "Well...I'm just a kid.  Aren't I too young?"

 _Yes you are_.  "I run the most profitable business in this area.  And I could certainly use the help."  She avoided his question about his age being a factor.

Ron thought for a moment.  "What kind of job is it?"

Vivian smiled serenely and leaned in.  "Ron....do you know what a Brothel is?"

 

** _To be continued in chapter 2._ **

**Author's Note:**

> I'm making this up as I go along, so if details do not seem canon, then you'll know why.
> 
> Also.....ladies, I did my best to try and describe Vivian's outfit appropriately, but I don't know women's garments at all. I didn't even know the difference between a cocktail dress and a formal dress until I looked them up. This chapter alone took me a couple of hours worth of research on Google trying to find the image that I was looking for and the terms to use with it. So be gentle on me, please, lol.
> 
> And LMAO.....James is such a disgusting old pervert! XD I don't anticipate him having a large role in this story at this time, however. But that may change.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
